


Tangent to a Circle

by icosahedonist (teljhin)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teljhin/pseuds/icosahedonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's good. More than good, really: it's <em>easy</em>. That's what worries Kent the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangent to a Circle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarcasticfishes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/gifts).



> Many heartfelt thanks to my betas S, C, and R. Without your help I could not have done this.
> 
> A huge, huge thank you to sarcasticfishes, without whose prompt this fic would not exist. I hope you enjoy!

Though it's not T-Mobile Arena, the ice at the Dunkin' Donuts Center beckons Kent all the same, its chilly embrace a siren song. The crowd voices its displeasure when the Aces take the ice, quiets during the anthem, and swells thunderously when the starting lines take their places around the center dot.

Jack's there waiting, leaning over with that familiar look to him: focused on nothing but hockey. Kent skates up last, barely having any time to settle himself before the linesman drops the puck and they start. He manages to snap the puck toward Swoops and everything but the game falls away.

The Aces burn through shifts like someone poured gasoline into their veins and lit a match. The Falconers match their ferocity, though, and they play as if it's game seven. But the Aces come out winners, and Kent's current twelve-game point streak continues with an assist to Swoops in the third off a nice little breakaway.

During the lineup Kent says his usual piece to each of the Falconers. When he comes to Jack they linger for a moment (Kent thinks he's going to hear about it on Twitter); on impulse he drags Jack into a bro hug, slapping his back and saying, "Good game, but you need to work on getting out of those corners, man."

Jack huffs and fucking ruffles Kent's hair. "Whatever. Good game."

He'll take it.

Further down he comes to Mashkov. He looks up at him and for a second just stares: at the sweaty hair plastered over his forehead; at the too-red nose he keeps sniffling; at the tired smile that makes Kent's traitorous heart lurch. Mashkov becomes Alexei as he pats the C on Kent's shoulder.

"Nice assist tonight, Ace. We talk later, yeah?" Alexei's expression is nothing but media-friendly politeness. This exchange too might earn a few tweets, but really, what do either of them care?

Kent knows that line well enough that he nods and slaps Alexei's shoulder. "You know it." Then, because he's still a bit of an ass, he smirks as he shuffles to the next player.

In the visitor's locker room and on the taxi ride to Alexei's building, Kent takes time to process the night. When it comes down to it, Kent’s always going to want Jack to play on his level. It’s where they belong: on the same ice, no matter if they’re on the same team or not. And watching him tonight, Kent could see the way Jack’s advanced his game. It’s beautiful hockey.

But some guilty part of him wishes there was more than just beautiful hockey between them. More than years of silence and animosity that curdled what goodness they created together.

Well. Nothing’s going to happen on that front tonight. He pushes those thoughts aside and goes up to Alexei’s place.

He doesn’t wait long before the door opens and Kent’s being hauled inside by his collar. He has time to see Alexei give him a wolfish grin before he’s kissed breathless. Alexei crowds him against the door, his hands roaming in broad strokes over Kent’s body. Kent moans and wraps his arms around the other man. God, it’s been too too many months.

Getting a solid grip on the backs of his thighs, Alexei fucking hoists Kent up against the door and—yeah, this works. Kent's not gonna say no to Alexei grinding his dick against Kent's ass.

"What you want, hmm? You tell me, I do for you." Alexei's breath puffs hot over Kent's ear; his eyes roll back and he clings tighter. He's got an idea he's working toward, but Alexei keeps talking. "Maybe you want blowjob, suck your dick so good. Want that, Ace?"

Kent groans. He does, of course he does, but—

He lowers his legs and pushes Alexei once he's standing. Alexei goes easily enough, that huge grin splitting his face and God, Kent loves that dumb smile so much it hurts.

"Kent, so pushy tonight. Win make you excited." As if Kent wasn't the one who got dragged inside the apartment. When Kent spits out a "Fuck you" Alexei's eyes light up.

"Now I'm know what you need." He leads Kent to the bed where they shed their clothes haphazardly. They're too worked up for foreplay; Kent gets his slick fingers deep in Alexei, making him gasp and shudder like he's never had his hole touched. When they're ready, when Kent slides the condom over himself, he hesitates. He wants—it's not that he doesn't want to face Alexei but—

"Hey."

He looks at Alexei. Alexei smiles and rubs Kent's cheek with more fondness than he deserves.

"Good?"

Like that’s all that needs to be said. And, swallowing past the sudden tightness in his throat, Kent nods.

"Can we—I mean—" Kent stutters. Fucking hell. This isn't what he imagined. His face warms and he looks away.

Gently Alexei turns his face back towards him. "What you want, Kent?" he asks, voice quiet in the dim light.

Instead of speaking, Kent turns Alexei onto his side, and scoots up close behind him. He pushes in slowly, almost leisurely; he presses his face to Alexei's back as he rocks into him. Alexei just sighs, and for several long moments they lose themselves to each other's touch.

Alexei comes quietly, with little more than a whimpered gasp. He clenches around Kent, which is enough for Kent to follow. He peppers kisses along Alexei's spine before he gets up to clean them off.

It's a simple thing to curl up against Alexei afterwards, because they've made it simple. Simple to drowse. But earlier thoughts float upward and weigh Kent back down. Idly he pets Alexei, his mind drifting to other times.

"Thinking a lot, Ace," Alexei murmurs into his hair. Kent swats his side limply.

"What do _you_ know about thinking." It's an old joke, and Kent thinks of the rows and rows of books that decorate the apartment, all sorts ranging from stuffy Russian literature to cheap romance novels, gardening tomes to children's fairy tales. Alexei loves them all. Kent...

Kent thinks too much, sometimes.

Alexei sniffs. "Not think much for defense. Protect Snowy, stop puck. Thinking for fancy centers with dumb hair."

Kent squawks out a laugh. That too is an old joke, so he lets it go. They breathe into the quiet air.

Feigning a casualness he doesn't feel, Kent asks, "Are you seeing anybody now?"

"You think I do this with you if I do?" Alexei runs his fingers through Kent's hair and Kent exhales. "Know I don't do."

"Yeah, I know." He doesn't talk about his curiosity, though, the way he wonders if—when—if Alexei is going to call this off. This thing they have, started years ago when the lockout loomed over everything, when Alexei came to Vegas on a whim and a chance encounter led them to sharing a bed, then led to their little arrangement—it's good. More than good, really: it's _easy_.

That's what worries Kent the most. If life's taught him anything it's that nothing so good comes easy.

The silence stretches until Alexei sighs and moves so he can look Kent in the eye. "You thinking about him again." It's not a question.

Kent has never once said Jack's name. Talked of him, sure: the ex Kent can't quite let go. Alexei's never been anything but kind on the matter, though he's not been shy about pointing out how many years it's been.

Case in point: "Six years a long time to carry torch."

Kent grimaces. Like he doesn't know.

"It's my choice to make. Shit as it is." Alexei's skin pebbles with gooseflesh when Kent huffs against him. "The game tonight reminded me of him, that's all."

Alexei hums. "And very tough when he win more face-off."

Kent goes still. For a terrifying moment they say nothing, then he mentally kicks himself.

"Okay first of all that's bullshit. Second, how the hell—"

He's interrupted by Alexei's long-suffering sigh. "You think I not look up famous Ace captain? I'm know your ego, Kent. Big like hockey ass." And—dammit, Kent can't help but laugh a little. Alexei continues, more seriously, "I'm not talk to Zimmboni about you. I'm never say if you want."

Kent nods; he knows well how Alexei values privacy.

With a tilted smile Alexei says, "He has girlfriend, now, you know. Good cook."

"I don't care if she's Betty Crocker," Kent grouses, earning him Alexei's bright laugh.

"Is okay. I eat your cooking no problem."

"I don't cook, asshole."

Alexei feigns shock. "What! You deceive me? I'm go back to Russia, find nice boy cook pelmeni for me. Don't need liar who can't make mac and cheese from box."

They wrestle each other, cackling like loons, until they wind back down into each other's arms. Kent wonders if they might go again when Alexei speaks.

Slowly he says, "Not always make good choice. But I'm think, even if make bad choice, can make good choice same time. You know? Not just... pick one, okay, do that. Multitask." He squeezes Kent's shoulders. "Is why you with me when you still love him, yeah?"

Kent's heart stutters. Unable to look the other man in the eye he sits up. He feels a hand press along his waist, and the touch anchors him against the tumult of emotions that one stupid word evokes.

He could deny it, but why bother? Alexei doesn't deserve the disservice of a blatant lie. He breathes deeply. When he speaks, his voice is steady.

"I'll always love him." He shrugs. "Some part of me, anyway." He turns to look at Alexei, whose expression tells him that Kent's words are, to him, a matter of course. Kent could leave it at that and be understood, be accepted, and their arrangement would continue as it has.

But.

The past three years have been good to him, when it comes to Alexei. Nothing's certain, Kent knows, and maybe ultimately things won't work out. Maybe all of Kent's little fears will come to pass. Maybe from here on it won't be easy, but a good thing like this...

It's worth the effort.

"I'd rather be with you."

And because Alexei's a smug asshole at times, he replies, "Of course. Best choice right here." He spreads his arms wide and grins. Snorting, Kent shoves him but collapses all the same into Alexei's embrace.

At least for tonight, everything stays easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify, I'm handwaving the fact that teams don't do handshake lines outside of the playoffs. I'm also handwaving any possible curfew Kent might have that night. Now you know!


End file.
